Sportsmanship
by PatronSaintOfBEGA
Summary: When blading leaves a very important score at oneall, what're two borderline psychotic individuals to do? Take things way too far, of course. Rated for implied goingson, and for being Absolut Crackfic. Review and I love you!


**Sportsmanship**

**((Do not read this. Not now, not ever. Okay?))**

"_Hah_! I win, biatch!"

"No way! There's still another round, dumbass."

"You calling me a dumbass?"

"If you're calling me a biatch. Truth hurt much?"

"That's it, you - "

Garland sighed, and rubbed at his forehead with one hand. A presence approached and came to stand beside him; Hillary, drinking soda through a straw.

"They still at it," she inquired, with little hope. He nodded wearily.

"Yup. They probably will be until Doomsday."

"True." The two paused to watch as the verbal argument got physical, its participants disappearing into a tangle of flying limbs and insults behind the air hockey table. "When Tyson and Daichi used to fight like this," Hillary ventured after some time, "I just sprayed them with a hose." Garland shook his head.

"Tried it. The net result was that they were both just wet and mad, yelled abuse at me and carried on. The last thing I want is them joining forces against us." Hillary sucked at her straw contemplatively, wincing as a fist connected with the nearest window.

"Ooh. Kai's got a mean right hook."

"He's also gotten glass everywhere," Hiro commented, appearing from the restroom. "Good Lord, they're _still_ - "

"Yes," Hillary and Garland chorused. BEGA's team coach nodded his comprehension and joined the audience. He considered taking notes, but thought better of it; he would undoubtedly have another opportunity, anyway.

" - Oh yeah? Well you still suck at _House of the Dead_!"

"Not as much as you suck at _F-Zero X_ and _DDR_!"

"Pfft, Nintendo games don't - "

"ANYTHING counts, jackass, stop trying to - "

"Shut up, you psychotic freak! We'll settle this like adults!"

"Huh?"

"Got a quarter for air hockey?"

"No. Garland - "

Garland sighed and relinquished his spare change. He declined, however, to hand over his lighter. The match commenced.

"Where's everyone else," Hillary asked thoughtfully, eyes never leaving the table.

"Over in the lanes, actually _bowling_," Hiro answered, sounding somewhere between surprised and sarcastic.

"That's weird."

"Hmm," Garland murmured in agreement, "You think they're tired of the floorshow?" Hiro shrugged, leaning back against the wall and tilting his head to one side, evading a puck that had been hit with somewhat more force than necessary and hence flown off the table. This happened frequently. "...I wouldn't be surprised, they do this every time we go anywhere."

"Yes, that's why we're _all_ banned from Wal-Mart," Hillary noted, a tone of steel edging into her voice. Hiro looked intrigued.

"Wal-Mart? What did they do in - "

"_Don't ask_." The chorused response did not encourage any further inquiry or even thought on the subject. Hiro shut up. Briefly.

"Giving them cards last week," he considered, "Was definitely a bad idea. Though it did keep them quiet for a few hours." Garland raised an eyebrow at the man.

"Quiet? I've never seen anyone play _Go Fish_ with that amount of violence."

"Better than the whole thing with _Mario Kart_, though." Nods of agreement to Hillary's statement. She frowned slightly, chewing the end of the straw. "...What _did_ happen to those cards, by the way?" Hiro and Garland exchanged looks.

"We had to take them away," Garland replied eventually, in a firm tone. Hiro shook his head and grinned at the floor.

"I warned Kai never to try to beat a psychic at strip poker," he mused. The other two looked deliberately in opposite directions, and tried not to snigger too much. A fist-fight was somewhat entertaining to watch, sure, but that didn't mean they wanted any of it directed at _them_. When a second flying puck thrummed through the bowling lane arcade air to concuss a passing waiter, however, Hillary felt moved to comment.

"We should've just made them have another Beyblade match," she opined, still chewing at the straw, "That way they'd have a definite winner, they wouldn't keep doing this." The other two looked at her incredulously.

"Hillary, did you even see what happened last time?" She snorted at the inquiry and its source; Garland looked appropriately affronted, without actually caring. No mean feat.

"Yeah, but why would I care if they end up destroying all of Tokyo? _I_ don't live in Tokyo. I'm just saying, this only keeps happening because blading left the score at one-all." Hiro nodded slowly.

"True. But I'm sure they'll run out of things to compete at eventually..."

"HAH! Game over!"

"So what? It's a draw, fuckwit."

"Okay, jackass, you're asking for it now..."

"Wait, what else is there?"

The pair looked around for some arcade game they hadn't already attempted to kill each other through the means of. None appeared. The trio by the wall waited in apprehension. Looks were exchanged. Eventually, Kai turned on his heel, folding his arms authoratatively.

"Yeah, well, I bet I'm a better screw than you are."

"What!" Brooklyn scowled petulantly. He was _not_ having this. "Are not!"

"Am too."

"Are not!"

"Am too!"

"Are - "

"Okay, that's _it_!" Childish bickering - as fun as that undoubtedly was - didn't seem to be getting anywhere. Kai, therefore, took the initiative and made a passionate try for victory in the argument. The motion itself was slightly more complex, but could be brought down to the narrow philosophy of sticking his tongue in his adversary's mouth. Having done so, however, Kai found he rather liked the situation, and decided to carry on. Brooklyn seemed appropriately surprised, his expression suggesting brain freeze of one kind or another, but he wasn't objecting. The three watchers simply gawked, unashamedly. A crowd gathered.

"Good Lord," Garland muttered after some time, "Is he going to stop for air?"

"Could be a suicide move," Hiro pointed out.

"True."

At that moment, however, Kai _did_ come up for air, smirking and panting.

"...Hff...hff...how's _that_ then, bitch!" His opponent, by now pinned back against the air hockey table, contrived to look unimpressed.

"Oh, I'd say there's definitely room for improvement." The Russian scowled, bristling once again.

"Oh yeah? And you could do any better?"

"I don't know, how about you go ask your mother?"

"You son of a - my mom's dead!"

"Yeah, well - "

"Good comeback," Hillary observed. Rei, who had recently joined the crowd beside her, nodded.

"Mm, mm." Garland waved a hand dismissively, frowning.

"No. Yo mama jokes are well known as the last stand of the truly desperate." Rei cocked an eyebrow at him.

"I thought that was online dating?" Garland considered this, and shrugged.

"Whichever."

"Necrophiliac!"

"No need to be jealous, just cause I'm getting some!"

"Okay, necrophiliac _slut_. How's that?"

"Hilarious. Anyway, you didn't even play the game properly, numbnuts."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah! We were talking about _screwing_, not just making out! But you're too scared to step up to the plate, so I guess I win. Which I would've anyway, saves everyone some time - "

"Hold on, hold on." Kai looked dangerous. "I'm not done."

"Well fuck, isn't that a surprise - "

The Russian smirked, eyes narrowing, and advanced further.

"Precisely."

From this point on there was not much to be said. The crowd had a much more enjoyable time from an evening's bowling than they had ever anticipated. Hiro and Rei took notes. Hillary got a migrane, coincidentally at about the same time that Tyson, Max and Daichi's colour commentary began. Mystel showed up with a camcorder, at Garland's behest, and sold the tape on eBay for an extortionate sum. And _everyone_ was banned from the bowling alley. For life.

Two weeks later, at the swimming pool...

"That didn't prove anything! I'm on top this time!"

**Well, what can feather-duster say? Apart from that she's very sorry, and will never do it again. Muahahahaha. Review and I love you!**


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